


Broken Steel

by bioticbootyshaker



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:39:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbootyshaker/pseuds/bioticbootyshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grief and want unmask us all; even those of us trained in The Game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Steel

Cassandra watched Vivienne lay the flowers down. The sky was gray and overcast, a light mist dampening her, but she stood with her back straight and her wrists crossed at the small of her back. Very rarely did Vivienne show emotion -- being a courtier as well as a Circle mage did not lend itself well to grand displays of emotion or sentimentality, after all -- but today, she knelt down, paying little mind to how the grass and mud stained her, and stroked her fingers over the letters engraved on the headstone.

“Bastien,” she said, the name barely more than a whisper, but Cassandra heard the heavy emotion in her voice, and her heart hurt for her. So many people had believed that her affair with the Duke had been nothing but an advantageous maneuver; but Cassandra had seen her eyes as she had watched the man die. Affection had been there, warm and gentle. Hurt, too, had lingered, when tears were dried and she had set herself to purpose. Whether it had started as a way to advance through the court or not didn’t matter; it ended with Vivienne on her knees, crying in the rain.

She moved to her, though everything in her demanded she remain still and wait for any strong emotions to pass before she approached. Cassandra had never been comfortable consoling someone. She was much better acting as a battering ram and bludgeon against the unjust than she was holding someone’s hand and telling them everything would be alright. 

Still, Vivienne was worth the attempt, no matter how clumsy. 

Her fingers found the nape of Vivienne’s neck, and with little insistence, she guided Vivienne’s face against her thigh. There, she could cry and feel some modicum of safety and privacy. As a woman who knew the importance of appearances, Cassandra was sure she appreciated the rather shoddy sanctuary. 

“It’ll be alright,” Cassandra said, awkwardly. She swallowed when Vivienne held onto her, shaping her fingers against her scalp. “I promise you, Lady Vivienne. Everything will be alright.”

Not wont to making promises she had no intention of keeping, Cassandra steeled herself against the nagging voices in her head that whispered she had no way of knowing how things would turn out. They were fighting a dreadfully powerful -- and unimaginably monstrous -- enemy, with a person leading them that had a means to close the rifts and optimism and not much else. 

Still, she felt in her heart that they would succeed. 

Whether faith guided her, or delusional fantasy, Cassandra couldn’t say. 

****

“I apologize, my dear,” Vivienne said. She spoke softly, as though to speak louder might draw more attention than she wanted. They were alone, sitting together in the garden near the tiny chapel that had served the faithful of the Inquisition as a Chantry of sorts. It was a place of great peace and quiet that both of them relished; Cassandra often found herself there to read, though she saved the smuttier novels for when she was alone in her chambers; superstitious or not, she didn’t like the idea of reading such things where the Bride of the Maker could clearly see her. 

“You’ve no need to apologize,” Cassandra said. 

“I have... revealed a great weakness,” Vivienne continued. “I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be so...vulnerable.”

Cassandra smiled, gently, and reached over to take Vivienne’s hand. Before, such a gesture would have startled both of them, but now it was second nature; as natural as breathing, really. 

“This isn’t the Great Game,” Cassandra said, her distaste of Orlesian politics clear in her tone. “You are among friends here. Do you think we sit around, whispering to each other of every movement you make and every word that you say? We’ve no time for such things. At least I don’t.”

“Yet they consider you for Divine,” Vivienne laughed. “Oh, my darling, you are in for a world of surprises if you take the Sunburst Throne, if you believe the Game is only played in Orlais.”

Cassandra’s smile fell. “I was the Right Hand of the Divine,” she said. “I know quite well what is involved.”

“I dare say Leliana has a better idea,” Vivienne said. “She was doing the true work of the Divine, after all. The shadows are so often where the real work was done.”

“And what was I doing?” Cassandra demanded. “What did I devote my life and my service to, if not the Divine’s work?”

“Settle, now,” Vivienne said. Her voice was kind, her touch soft on Cassandra’s wrist. “I meant no offense, my dear. All that I meant was that you need to prepare yourself if you wish to become the next Divine. You are a tough woman, forged of steel, but it takes more than that to lead the faithful. You must be graceful and elegant and refined. You must be ferocious to those who oppose you and yielding to those who question. You will be the face of Andraste and the voice of the Maker. Do not forget that.”

Cassandra sighed. “Nothing has been decided. I will worry about all of this when the Clerics make their decision. I believe we have enough to worry over as it is.”

“Too true, darling,” Vivienne agreed. “I believe we got off track. I was apologizing for my behavior, wasn’t I?”

“And I was telling you there is no need,” Cassandra repeated.

“Such a sweetheart,” Vivienne purred. She reached out and cupped Cassandra’s cheek, her thumb slipping over the deep scar near her jaw. “Whenever I find myself believing I know the depths of your heart, you find new ways to surprise me.”

Her face heated under Vivienne’s touch. “I only speak the truth.”

“A rare thing,” Vivienne said. “You have no idea how marvelous you are, do you?”

“No,” Cassandra said. “That is... I don’t... _No_.”

Vivienne’s laughter was sweet and remarkably uninhibited. When she laughed that way, her eyes glittered and she looked very little like a courtier; she looked playful, and young, and lovelier than Cassandra had words to describe. 

Her stomach warmed and fluttered with butterflies. 

“Maker’s breath,” Cassandra sighed. “You are impossible.”

****

Vivienne might not have been prone to showing her emotions, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a passionate woman who burned with them. Cassandra learned this when she found her poetry, hidden away amongst her books and papers. She hadn’t gone poking through Vivienne’s personal things on purpose, of course; she wanted a particular recipe from her notes and... well, for a woman of such proper manners and appearances, she was rather messy and unorganized with her writings. 

_“With passionate heart  
You stand at the gates of destruction  
Shield raised and   
Sword gripped and  
Teeth bared.”_

She started, grabbing for the paper when Cassandra started reading, but Cassandra easily dodged her grasping fingers and finished the short poem. She let her snatch the vellum away when she was through, the look on her face one of bemused curiosity. 

“Lady Viv---”

“A lady’s private papers are for her eyes only,” Vivienne interrupted. “You know quite well that I keep all of my recipes and notes in the satchel on my bedside table. You had no right going through my--- Oh, darling, please do try not to look so smug.”

Cassandra tried to keep her smile hidden, but it broke wide and sunny across her face. She handed the paper to Vivienne where she returned it to the scattered papers. “Was that about me?” She asked.

“Honestly,” Vivienne fussed. “You’re so _curious_ , aren’t you?”

She walked out to the terrace and leaned against the railing, not looking at Cassandra when she followed after her and took her dutiful spot beside her. She was like a shadow, trailing after Vivienne, and Vivienne was just in love with her enough to find it endearing. 

“I did not mean to offend,” Cassandra said. 

“You didn’t, darling,” Vivienne said. “I am... unused to anyone knowing of my more... Discreet interests. I doubt anyone would believe you if you told them I wrote poetry. They see me as rather cold, I’m afraid.” Her usual tone was gone, replaced with something hard and bitter. Courtier or not, she was not in the halls of the Orlesian Court, and her mask was gone. For the first time in the long time, Vivienne had no desire or drive to play the Game. 

Warm lips touched her temple and gentle fingers wiped her tears away. She hadn’t even known she was crying before Cassandra touched her. How long had it been since she’d sat down and let whatever she was feeling move slow and painful and heavy through her? Too long, judging by how her shoulders trembled when Cassandra pulled her close to her. 

Vivienne didn’t even know what she was crying about. Did she cry for Bastien, for all the people that had been lost because of the Breach and civil war? Did she cry for herself? For the little girl she had once been, and the woman she was? Or did she cry simply because everything had sat so oppressively on her shoulders for years and years and it was either cry or go mad beneath the weight of it all?

“You’re an amazing woman,” Cassandra whispered. “You have made yourself of steel, because the world was so intent on seeing you broken. But you are soft, aren’t you, Vivienne?” She pulled back, just enough to cup Vivienne’s face and kiss her gently. “You’re soft and you’re afraid and you’re hurting and it’s okay. I promise you it’s okay.”

No one had ever whispered to her so gently or held her in their arms the way Cassandra did. Not even her Duke, with all of his charm and his affection for her, had looked at her with the kind of warmth and tenderness that Cassandra did. Sometimes, even Vivienne believed that she was forged of steel and ice, not given the luxury of bending or melting; but Cassandra was proof that she was nothing but flesh and bone. Her skin tingled when Cassandra’s fingertips moved over her, and her bones seemed to ache for her when Cassandra kissed her. 

“That poem could have been for anyone, you’re aware of this, my dear.”

“I’m sure,” Cassandra chuckled.

****

It was ridiculous.  
There was no reason she should be nervous. 

She had saved a Divine and faced down beasts and men and stood as a bulwark between the righteous and the unjust. Cassandra had a stout enough heart to leave behind all that she had ever known and forge her own path, declaring the Inquisition and fighting the darkest shadows of her own faith and belief. 

Yet here she was, trembling, blood pounding, heart thrumming, so filled with nervousness and excitement and longing she thought she might burst. 

And all because Vivienne walked into her room with her body covered in little more than lace and silk and her eyes half-lidded. 

“You’ve been so good to me, darling,” she whispered, her fingers sliding through Cassandra’s hair and her nails curling against her scalp. Cassandra shivered, her stomach warming and fluttering. “I want to return the favor.”

“You’ve always been good to m--” Cassandra tried to say, but Vivienne leaned down and silenced her with a kiss, her touch moving to the nape of her neck and pulling her closer to her mouth.

Neither of them wanted to talk. The heat of their kiss and the way their bodies thrummed was proof enough of that. Cassandra tilted her head back and gripped Vivienne’s hips. Her fingers trembled, but she was determined. As was her nature, she refused to show even a hint of nerves. 

Except when Vivienne laid her down and started to undress her. Cassandra broke their kiss, her lips swollen and wet, her eyes dark with passion, but with a hint of doubt. Vivienne waited, tracing her finger over Cassandra’s lips, looking into her eyes with unflinching patience. 

“I have never---” Cassandra swallowed and looked away from her. “I have never---”

“Tell me what you want, love,” Vivienne whispered. 

It seemed a simple enough request. _Tell me what you want._

How could she put into words what she wanted? She wanted to drown in Vivienne, to get lost forever in her dark eyes. Cassandra wanted to be so close to her that she melted into her, to taste her and breathe her in until time stopped. More than anything she wanted to love her, to be loved by her, to fill her heart with her until it burst. 

How could you put those things into words?

The corners of her lips turned up softly. “You,” she said. “I want you.”

Vivienne returned to her mouth, her touch moving under cloth to touch warm skin. Somehow she had found her way beneath so much; armor and cloth and bone. She moved through Cassandra’s blood now, and when she breathed in, it was Vivienne’s breath.

“You have me, darling,” Vivienne said.

“Forever,” Cassandra whispered. She pulled Vivienne close and kissed her mouth hungrily, curling her fingers under her jaw. 

Anything less than forever would never be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> written for thatvolyovabitch on tumblr.


End file.
